


On the First Date of Christmas

by mm8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Date, Get Together, M/M, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is sent undercover when a serial killer is preying on London's gay speed dating scene. Little does he know he's actually on his way to his first date with the man he most desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the First Date of Christmas

John couldn't believe he'd come here. When he had complained about it, everyone had thought it was a brilliant idea.

 _"You should go, Love."_ Mrs. Hudson had patted his hand, _"It's good to get out of the house and meet some new people."_

 _"You need to get laid."_ Harry slurred over the telephone.

Sarah had smiled gently, _"Perhaps you should go, John. It has been a while since we broke up."_

However, it had been Sherlock's idea. The killer they'd been hunting for had met all of his victims while speed dating in gay night clubs. He seemed to visit the speed dating scene exactly every two weeks. And tonight marked another one of his regular nights.

 _"But why _this_ one, Sherlock?"_ John had asked pointing at the club circled on the map. _"There's loads of clubs in London. Why do you think the killer is going to this one?"_

Sherlock glared at him with irritation. _"Because this is the only gay club that has speed dating on that night. Ergo, he's going there."_

 _"But it'll be Christmas Eve."_ John insisted. _"What makes you believe that the killer won't, I don't know, take the night off to spend with his family?"_

_"He's a serial killer, John. They kill in a pattern. We've discovered his and now we have to catch him."_

_"Fine, then why me?"_ John huffed. _"Why do I have to be the one to go undercover at this gay speed dating thing?"_

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. _"You honestly thought for even a microsecond that I would be a viable candidate to go undercover to a speed dating gathering? John, you must have suffered some sort of mild brain damage while I wasn't looking."_

And that's why he was here. Sherlock had given him an alias, Dr. John Smith. He had to roll his eyes at that. Sherlock had ordered him to wear skinny jeans and a pink polo shirt. John felt utterly ridiculous. 

"Alright, singles!" A young, thin, blond-haired man said into a microphone and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "We're glad to have you here tonight in the festive spirit!" He waited as some cheered and applauded. "My name is Tyger and I'll be your host for the evening." A few men standing a few feet away from John wolf-whistled. The emcee blushed, "Oh you boys! Now, if this is your first time here, I'll explain the rules. Everyone should have been given a slip of paper with a number when you signed in. Please sit down at the table labeled with the number you were given. Then once we begin, the bell will ring and all the even numbers will move over one table over to the right while all the odd numbers move over one table over to the left. Make sense, fellas?" The crowd went wild once more. "Alright, then take your seats and wait for the first round to begin!"

John made his way through the mass and finally found his starting table, number 8. A man at the odd numbered table opposite number 8 had already had down. The man smiled warmly at John before the first bell rang and everyone moved their places. 

His first 'date' was a man in his late forties, completely bald, but who wore a cocky smile. John learned that his name was Kenneth and he worked at a high profile bank as an accountant. His hobbies included weight-lifting, playing football and working on cars. Apparently, he had been married for over ten years before coming out of the closet and was now looking for his perfect male half. In fact John barely got a word in besides 'hello' before the bell rang and he was onto his next date.

'Date' number two was a man in his mid-sixties named Eugene who wore an impeccable Brooks Brothers suit. Eugene was a retired doctor as it turned out, but was a doctor of optometry. He was a huge fan of the theater _("Did you see that dishy David Tennant in Hamlet?")_. And he was open about his sexual kinks and fantasies, the majority of which John didn't know existed. Somehow John must have made an impression on Eugene because at the end of the round the elderly man scribbled his mobile number and email address on a scrap of paper and winked at him. 

The next 'date', Roger, he quickly learned, wanted nothing to do with him. The second he sat down and introduced himself, Roger, gave him a snarl and gritted through his teeth, "You're not my type."

John decided to use his time wisely and observe his surroundings. The emcee, Tyger, and a few older women were walking around the tables with their hands behind their backs, patrolling as it were. There were over one hundred participants for the speed dating thing. All men ranging in age from eighteen to late seventies. According to Sherlock's description, the murderer would be around John's age and have shocking red hair and be short in stature. None of the men present met the description. Just fantastic. Apparently John had been correct after all and the serial killer had taken the night off for Christmas Eve. So this undercover operation was a bust. Great. Just great.

"Actually I work at Scotland Yard. I'm a Detective Inspector."

The doctor looked a table down on the odds side and to his surprise saw none other than Detective Inspector Lestrade. What was he doing here, a place like this on Christmas Eve? Was he investigating the serial killer? But no, he couldn't be. They had gotten the case from Detective Inspector Dimmock. Lestrade had been busy with a string of robberies or something. Then what was he doing here?

The bell for the next round rang and everyone switched seats.

"Hello, I'm Gregory Lestrade." He said as he sat down, without taking the time to glance at his 'date'. When he did however, his eyes bugled out of their sockets. "Watson? Dr. Watson? What are you doing here?"

"Ah, same as all these other blokes I suppose." John said louder than necessary as one of the monitors passed by. Then he checked to see if no one was listening in and leaned forward. "Actually, I'm here undercover. Trying to catch that Speed Dating Killer. Except he doesn't seem to be here."

Lestrade seemed to have tensed up. "Ah, yes. They gave that case to _Dimmock_ if I recall."

"Yes," John answered awkwardly. "Things would most likely be going more smoothly if it were you in charge of the case."

"Just the luck of the draw, I suppose." The detective inspector invisibly relaxed, leaned back in his chair. "Why are _you_ the one going undercover? Shouldn't it be Sherlock?"

John snorted, "That's what _I_ said." He was glad it was apparent to someone else that it was strange. "Sherlock basically, in not so many words, said he wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this."

It was the inspector's turn to laugh. "Too right! But you look rubbish in that shirt, mate." 

The doctor's stomach fluttered when he heard Lestrade use the affectionate term toward him. "I tried to tell him that too." He chuckled before a thought came across his mind. "Say, why are you here?"

Before the man could answer, the bell rang for the next round.

"Say, you want to ditch this and get a pint with me?" Lestrade offered, cocking his head toward the exit.

John beamed ear to ear. "Yeah, let's go."

As they turned to go, the emcee, Tyger yelled at them to stop. "You can't go! You can't leave before—"

"Piss off." Lestrade retorted crudely, and held the door open for John so they could make their getaway.

* * *

The pub they ended up at was only five minutes away. Lestrade was kind enough to pay for both of their drinks and they found an empty table in a corner so they could talk privately.

"What were you doing at the speed dating thing anyway, Lestrade?"

"Greg." he rapidly replied. "Call me Greg. And I was there because my ex-wife suggested I go."

John arched his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" He glanced down at the gold wedding band that was at least ten years old on Greg's ring finger.

"I wear it out of habit," he said out of explanation as if it was the most reasonable thing. "We've only been divorced for a year. Separated for three years before that."

The ex-soldier nodded as if he understood or at least could see his point. "How long were you married?" This was turning a little depressing.

"Ah, it really doesn't matter. That part of my life is over." He shrugged.

"Then why—" 

Lestrade interrupted, "Why did I go to a gay speed dating event? Why did she encourage me to go?"

"Erm, all of the above?"

"'Cause I'm gay." His voice was so rough and deep. "She figured I better get my head of my arse and meet some blokes or at the very least, admit that I have fancied a certain one for a while now."

The doctor's heart sank, his frown deepened. "Oh? Anyone I know?"

Lestrade gave him a cheeky smile, "I hope so." He leaned in, and squeezed his upper thigh, close to his groin.

John shuddered, suppressed a moan, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Suddenly, Greg's mouth was on his. The kiss was soft, tentative and brief. 

Greg smiled at him. "I'd say that this was a brilliant first date."

**Author's Note:**

> * Kudos are amazing and I will never stop asking for them, but getting comments, actual feedback from readers means so much. Taking five seconds out of your time can really make my day.
>   
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> * You can follow me on [tumblr](http://mm8fic.tumblr.com/).
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